again, and we rushed over the seas at our former rate. Every now and again we had to jibe—a formidable operation in such weather with this huge lateen, which, like the English lugsail, has to be dipped and passed over to the other side at each jibe or tack.
At midday we were sailing in smoother water inside a long coral reef, which extends for many miles parallel to the coast, and forms a sheltered channel for small craft. It was only occasionally, when we passed the openings in the reef, that we were exposed to the heavy sea that was still running. Later in the afternoon we sailed past the southern end of this reef, and were again rolling and pitching merrily as we ran before the high steep seas. Then we doubled the cape called Ras Asis, which is about seventy miles from Suakin. From here the coast trends, for ten miles, to the west of south, so afforded us some shelter, the wind being from the N.N.W. At about sunset the skipper lowered his sail and let go his anchor close under the shore, which was low and barren, and appeared to be uninhabited. He explained to me—and my chart confirmed his words—that there was no safe anchorage further on with this wind blowing, and that the numerous islets and shoals, among which we had to pick our way, rendered navigation dangerous on a dark night. But the skipper was still confident that, despite this delay, we should overhaul our adversary on the morrow. He knew that he was no less daring than
